Paul's 2002 Toyota Yaris 1.0 VVTi GS

“Really?!” That was the slightly surprised reaction Paul gave to my acceptance of his half joking offer to review his humble little runaround. Fortified by several pints of Deuchers IPA in the warmth and comfort of the Low Light Tavern, I was confident that there would be plenty of note to write about. Fast forward a few weeks and sitting in the passenger seat at 7:30am on a bleak grey Thursday morning, my confidence has wained somewhat. The plan was simple enough and should provide the necessary opportunity for any car to show signs of promise beyond 'being better than public transport', but as we circumnavigated Newcastle upon Tyne on our way to Paul's workplace, I couldn't help but feel that this Yaris was going to be an uninspiring steer.

Mooching our way along the A1056 past Killingworth towards the A1, Paul and I were surprised to work out that he's had this car for six years, having made a rather swift purchase after the demise of his wife's old bubble shaped Nissan Micra, post MoT failure. Although he'd only just started to look for a replacement, the price of the then four years old car, with its low mileage, and only one or two minor interior blemishes, was too good a bargain to miss out on. As a second car to commute in and occasionally collect the kids from nursery, the fairly basic one litre 3 door hatchback was ideal. We eventually come to a halt outside the swanky out of town office complex where Paul is due to embark on another day of accountancy software development, and I finally get my hands on the keys and transfer to drivers seat.

Turning the key even that first notch in the ignition brightens my mood quite literally. The digital dials of the centre mounted display came to life in green and red LED's. This panel is angled towards the driver, so you don't notice it from the passenger seat, which is in some ways quite a shame. The dash had looked as bland and grey as the cloudy sky outside, but the sight of the large numeric speedo and semi circular bar graph rev counter cheer things up considerably, for the driver at least. That centre console allows for a very geometric dash layout with large clear controls that are easy to identify and use. Two decent sized glovebox replace the steering wheel on the passenger side and cubbyholes either side of the centre console prove to be more useful than they first appear.

As it's still early, I decide to join the hoards of commuters and trundle down The Great North Road through Gosforth and towards the City Centre. It becomes instantly clear that this is going to be an easy car to drive and well suited to the commuter crawl. All the pedals and controls are nicely weighted, with a smooth gear change, light steering, and good visibility. The humble 68bhp and 66ft/lbs of torque are both adequate to the task of keeping up with the traffic on the rare moments when the road ahead clears. I cut across the Town Moor in search of Westgate Road and the A69, intent on an escape to the country. On the westward bound duel carriageway, that modiste power output starts to struggle. It can manage a steady cruise on the level, but those Northumbrian hills are a constant reminder that you've only got one litre to play with. As I loose momentum up yet another steep incline, I start to wonder whether this was the best destination for a little city dweller.

Its reasonably refined in here and although there can be quite a bit of engine noise, its usually a sign that you're being over ambitious and need to ease off a little. The seating position does feel fairly upright, but the feeling of space is rather welcome in a car of this size. North of Hexham the lanes merge into a single carriageway and I slow to the inevitable crawl that often occurs when you catch up with one of the many articulated lorries that frequent the A69. A few miles later I get to peal off onto the A686 and take in the delights of the Alston Pass, a road which winds its way over the Pennines to Penrith, and has long been a favourite road of mine.

The first few miles twist and turn gently up hill through the forests beside Langley Burn and the constant stream of 2^nd gear corners make exploring the levels of grip easy enough. That little 16v power plant happily rev's quite hard and delivers enough go to pull the car willingly out of each bend. Those high seats and a fair amount of body roll leave you sliding around in your seat a bit, clinging onto the steering wheel, holding yourself in place with spirited driving. This is fine when you're in the car on your own, but could be alarming for any would be passengers. The great thing about the Alston Pass is the constant variation, so after a few miles of dashing through the forest, the road straightens out for a while and you get a chance to cruise past any slower moving road users. And so it goes on, twisty forest lined fun, then open moorland stretch, throw in the odd set of switch backs, village, or stout stone bridge, and beauty continues for mile after mile.

Finally I find myself entering the village of Melmerby, and stop at the Village Bakery for a coffee and to ponder the question 'what am I going to say about this seemingly consumer appliance of a car?' Sitting there sipping my Latte, I suddenly remembered my early journeys through this village in one small hatchback or another, dreaming of more power, better grip, and prestigious stopping power. These small base model motors give so many people their first taste of freedom, getting to enjoy the process of driving, learning to find the limits of the car, carry speed through corners, anticipate overtaking manoeuvres, and so much more. The fond memories of rusty old Metro's and dodgy Fiesta's being hurled at hill and dale as fast as their screaming valve gear would allow, provoke a more nostalgic view of the prospect of driving this Yaris back to Newcastle.

Retracing my route back into town, the confidence is swelling and I'm having a blast. I'm pushing harder through the corner, rev'ing the engine closer to the limiter in return for those final few horses and getting some encouraging engine noises to urge me on. On the big open switch backs near the hill top Hartside Cafe, I finally reach the limits of front end grip, the nearside wheel chugging in protest as it sheds off the excess speed. Theres no need to panic, no terminal understeer, or oversteer as you lift off a little, the car just gathers itself back up and resumes normal service. Even the run back along the A69 seems more fun, anticipating those hills and working to sustain you pace becomes quite enjoyable in its own right.

Back in the city centre, casually carving my way though the traffic I finally find a suitably urban corner to stop and take some photos. This car was ok looking when launched but the two later generations have left it looking a little frumpy. Looking more closely, I notice that the front is quite a good shape, the wheels fill the arches better than I had realised, the rear lines are good too, its the shape of the side windows on the 3 door that makes it look a little odd. Tootling around for the rest of the afternoon, doing the odd errand or two whilst waiting to retrieve Paul from his cubical, I cant help but find myself feeling quite fond of this little car in a way I hadn't expected. Its a bit like Ronseal, 'Does what it says on the tin'. Its no great revelation in motoring, or even small car packaging, and its probably not the best small car of its era, but it does the basic task of commuting very well, and within reason can do a pretty good job of motorways and entertaining A and B roads too. What more can you ask for?

Thanks to Paul for the loan of his car.
ⓒ Dan Ewing 2012